


Ardent

by allonsysilvertongue



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, F/M, Graphic, Hunger Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsysilvertongue/pseuds/allonsysilvertongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haymitch wanted peace. Effie wouldn't stop talking. Smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ardent

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I've never written anything this graphic. Hopefully you find this enjoyable. Do leave a comment or kudos. Thanks for reading!

Haymitch saw red and his vision began to narrow as the anger spread through his body, hot as molten lava. Both of his Tributes had just been mercilessly killed, barely lasting half an hour into the game. One had been brutally beaten up and stabbed by a pack of Careers, the other had been buried and drowned in a pit of quicksand.

He stormed out of the Games Headquarters and marched furiously towards the direction of the Penthouse. He wasn't needed at the Games Headquarters anymore and Hell would freeze over before he willingly mingled with sponsors and Gamemakers alike.

Effie ran after the inebriated mentor in her high heels, her tiny steps hardly a match against his long strides.

"Wait, Haymitch!"

"Go back, Trinket. Leave me alone."

She did none of those, of course. Effie knew that if left alone in such a state, Haymitch would most likely wound up in trouble - too drunk to even know what he was doing. She made the mistake of leaving him to his own devices after the deaths of their tributes two years ago and he had ended up detained in jail for being a public nuisance, beating up two Capitol citizens who had made bets about the remaining Tributes. He was released because the Capitol still needed a mentor for next year's Games and he was the only living Victor in District Twelve.

Haymitch entered the elevator and furiously jabbed the button, willing the door to close before Effie could make it through. Much to his annoyance, the woman made it just in time, slipping between the closing elevator doors, panting from the run she had made.

"You shouldn't have left just like that! What would the Gamemakers think?"

He gulped down the remaining whiskey left in the bottle and cast it aside in frustration when he realised that there was no more liquid left. Haymitch felt the jacket of his pocket and uncapped his silver flask, tipping it into his mouth only to find out that even the flask was empty.

_Great. Stuck in an elevator with an annoying Escort._

"Shut up," he mumbled tiredly.

"You should have stayed, at least until the nightly anthem," she continued as though Haymitch had not just told her to be quiet, glancing briefly in disapproval at the discarded bottle.

"Shut up, Trinket."

She frowned but plod on. "We could have talked to the sponsors. Build a connection for next year when the Games –"

He gave a frustrated growled and backed her up against the elevator wall as he crashed his lips to her, kissing her hard. The first time he had ever kissed her, hard and rough enough to bruise her lips, she hadn't liked it. She had tried to tame him but he refused to back down and finally, she yielded - letting him have control, allowing him power over a Capitol citizen. There was no denying that Effie Trinket was desirable and that he wanted her, but he would do it on his own terms.

She tried to push him off, protesting weakly but he pressed her further into the wall, trapping her body with his making her unable to move. "Be quiet, Effs."

Haymitch knew how much she liked that nickname which he only ever called her when they were alone and he was proven right when she sighed and leaned against him. He kissed his way up the column of her throat - her smooth skin against the rough stubble of his cheek – his tongue darted out to trail against her jaw line.

Shoving his hand down her plunging neckline, he clumsily squeezed her breast through her bra. Haymitch was well-aware that he was drunk and that he was at that moment emotionally unstable, the anger still roaring in his blood. He knew he was taking it out on the only person there was – Effie. If he regretted it in the morning, it wouldn't be anything new. It wasn't as though he didn't have a list of things he regretted and felt guilty about.

Her fingers gripped his hair as he lifted her off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist. Haymitch kissed his way back to her lips, and moaned when her fingers raked lightly against his scalp. The elevator door opened and Haymitch was vaguely aware of him carrying her across the hallway towards their door. He slammed her against the door, their tongues still battling each other as Effie reached back to fumble with the knob with no apparent success. He let her down allowing her to open the door but his arm snaked around her waist and he ground his erection against her.

"Hurry and open the damned door, Effs," he growled in annoyance.

When it finally opened, he took her hand and twisted her around to face him, ignoring her yelp of pain. His large hand came up and close around her throat, slipping to the nape of her neck as he roughly pushed her back so that she fell back against the sofa.

He knelt by her side, his hand gliding up her thigh and into her skirt. Dropping a kiss to her inner thigh, Haymitch could already smell her arousal. He stroked her softly against the silk undergarments she was wearing. Effie whimpered, her hand combing his hair.

"Haymitch…," she breathed out when he lightly caressed her through the thin fabric. He looked up briefly to see Effie with her eyes closed, and mouth parted slightly. He went back to kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh, suckling on the skin and marring it. She hated it when he marked her but Haymitch lived to irritate her.

Pushing himself up slightly, he shifted his attention to her neck as his hand pulled down her undergarments. Haymitch thumbed her clit and she mewled under him. He felt the stirring low in his stomach and pushed his finger inside her.

With a finger curling inside, working her to a frenzy - he pushed her blouse off her shoulder. Pulling her red brassiere down and freeing one of her breasts, he palmed it and watched as Effie's face scrunched up with pleasure. He inserted another finger in, pumping them faster. His palm was large enough to cover her breast – squeezing it hard as he kissed her roughly on the mouth.

"Haymitch… Oh yes, right there… Oh…," she was near incoherent and with her walls already tightening around his fingers, Haymitch latched his mouth on one of her nipples and swirled his tongue around it.

She screamed his name as she came and he let her, knowing there was no one else around to hear them.

When he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean, he watched Effie watching him. It fascinated him the fact that half of the time, he could hardly tolerate being in the same room with the woman panting in front of him but craved the sound of her voice as she moaned his name.

Effie had a silly, satisfied smile on her face and Haymitch frowned at that sight. He couldn't explain the irritation he felt seeing her happy like that. Grabbing her hand, he hauled her to her feet.

"Stop fucking smiling, Trinket. There's nothing to be smiling about," he snarled, baring his teeth at her as he suddenly remembered the event that led them to their current situation - his two dead tributes.

Effie looked him with an arched eyebrow, clearly used to his angry mood swings especially when he was drunk.

Her hands reached down to the front of his pants, working deftly on the buckle of his belt and released his straining cock. The best way to deal with Haymitch when he was angry was to distract him. His alcohol usually worked until he passed out drunk and peace would once again settle in the Penthouse, but there were also other ways to distract the man from his own rage.

His hand gripped the back of the sofa as he felt her hand close around his shaft. His breathing quickened and became laboured as Effie worked her hands on him, her lips licking and nibbling on his ear lobe. Emboldened, she stroked him harder and he felt himself slowly losing control.

"Effs…," he grunted.

Smirking, Effie dropped to her knees and Haymitch knew what she was about to do. Quickly, he grabbed her arms and dragged her back to her feet, gaining back the control that was slowly slipping through his fingers. Somehow, in their tryst, they ended up at the kitchen, with her bent over the table.

"Haymitch? What are-" her voice sounded slightly panicky. This was new to her and Haymitch had never done this with her before. He had always brought her to either his or her room.

"Shut up. You talk too much, you know that?" he told her, as he yanked her skirt up to her waist. Haymitch was rewarded with the view of her ass in the air.

He had his hand at the back of her neck, pressing her down on the table. Effie could hear the rustling of clothes as Haymitch pushed his pants and boxers down to his ankles and somehow that excited her – trapped on the table, in an uncharted territory.

He entered her and took her from behind. Effie cried out and her fingernails scratched against the table when she felt her walls stretching to accommodate him. Haymitch allowed Effie a small window to get used to him before he started picking up the pace, pounding furiously into her. His hand slipped down her front and began rubbing her swollen clit. She moaned loudly while he grunted in pleasure. His head was thrown back, his hips thrusting rhythmically against her.

He tiptoed slightly and leaned forward, testing out the new angle it provided. Effie's hips bucked in response and she pushed herself against him, driving him further inside her. Haymitch gripped her waist and tried to tame her erratic movement. At the same time, he dropped a kiss to her bare shoulder, tasting her delicious skin that was sleeked with sweat.

The sound of her moaning and panting his name over and over would be his undoing. "Come for me, Effs," he managed to say in between breaths.

He felt her coiling and writhing minutes before divine pleasure shook her body and she slumped against the table, boneless and pleasantly fucked. He gave a final thrust, burying himself deep inside her before he followed soon enough. His toes curled and his muscles tensed.

When he pulled out from her, Haymitch slumped against the kitchen seat, exhausted and spent. The anger had abated slightly, though now, his body craved for alcohol. Effie slid down the table and straightened her skirt. She sauntered over to him, caressed his cheeks almost lovingly and dropped a soft warm kiss on his lips.

He was still trying to get his breathing under control when he felt Effie press an unopened bottle of whiskey in his hand.

"You deserve it," she said a slight smile on her lips.

Haymitch tore his gaze away, ashamed and embarrassed. He knew that look, and he didn't like it one bit. What they were doing was just fucking to him, but to her it was something else. Those loving caresses and kisses she peppered him after each post-coital activity were indication that what she felt for him ran deeper than two people who merely slept with each other for comfort.

Well, she was the fool who was in love with him. He didn't owe her anything, not after what her people had done to him, but even as he made his way back to his room, he knew it was useless because deep within his hearts of hearts, Effie was his. And he, despite his persistent denials, care about her, too.

 


End file.
